


A Salve for Bruised Pride

by Ghostinthehouse



Category: Cadfael Chronicles - Ellis Peters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-16 08:09:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21504649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse
Summary: Cadfael looked up from the herb bed he was weeding at the sound of a familiar step on the path. "Welladay! What happened to you?"
Relationships: Hugh Beringar & Brother Cadfael
Comments: 15
Kudos: 66
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	A Salve for Bruised Pride

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DestielsDestiny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielsDestiny/gifts).



> This story is set after An Excellent Mystery, but before A Raven in the Foregate

_In the year of our Lord 1141_

The last of the fruit from the orchards had been gathered in, scanted from what might have been by the dry summer, though well enough in itself. Now, as October drew on and the year drifted as gently as falling leaves out of autumn towards the coming winter, Cadfael looked up from the herb bed he was weeding at the sound of a familiar step on the path. While he'd no help among the herbs or in the gardens at present, that was no hardship in the ease of the summer, harvest or no, though come the colder weather and he'd be back to asking for another pair of hands to be assigned to him for the rough work. As yet, the late afternoon sun lay golden across the gravel, and warmed his broad shoulders. "Hugh!" Then, as his friend drew closer, his sharp eyes spotted the lattice of scratches on Hugh's face and hands. "Welladay! What happened to you?" he asked, sitting back on his heels with only the mildest of protests from his knees.

Hugh gave an almost rueful grin, his smooth black hair ruffled by the light breeze. "I ended up encountering a patch of brambles more closely than I ever intended."

Cadfael got to his feet, shook out the skirts of his habit, and set the basket of weeds out of the way. "Well then, come on in and tell me the rest of it while I tend to them. Have you more that are not visible?" He led the way into the hut at an easy amble and reached down a jar of lotion made from water betony, good for scrapes and grazes. He decanted some of it into a small bowl and diluted it down, ready to wash the dirt from his friend's scratches.

"I was wearing leather and that protected me from the worst of it," Hugh said, following him in and seating himself on the bench bed at the back, "save for the bruising my pride took in being tossed from my horse." He tipped his head up, submitting wordlessly to Cadfael's ministrations. "You'll have heard that the stalemate and the ensuing negotiations continues apace? Neither side is coming to much of an agreement on what makes a fair exchange regarding Stephen and Robert at present, though I dare say they will find one in due course. But for now, they're letting any number of soldiers go home on leave. Not all of them are as loyal or as honest as Adam Heriet, and we had word that some had taken to the forest and banditry, having little else to go back to."

"And so you went after them," Cadfael said a little dryly, his voice hovering somewhere between amusement and resignation. He knew Hugh far too well to think his friend wouldn't have gone out after them. "Turn your head a little more to the light. There. So." He went after one of the longer and deeper scratches that ran across Hugh's cheek and up almost to his ear.

The sheriff winced a little and subsided again. "Not alone, but yes, I went after them. There were three of them. Two we caught, and the sergeants have taken them to the cells for the moment. It was the third that caused the chaos - a lanky man he was, with the look of a bowman or a scout, and copper-bright hair that ought to mark him out where ever he goes." He paused as Cadfael's cloth came close to his mouth, dark eyes bright above it, then resumed once more when it was clear. "He was quick enough, and deft enough with a knife to cut the girth on my saddle. Then when he startled the horses..." His hand gesture described his swooping tumble from horseback into the brambles, cheeks darkening with embarrassment, and a ragged tag of thread fluttering on his sleeve with the movement. "He escaped in the confusion, leaving his companions behind."

Cadfael could well imagine the scene, and the bright boldness of the lad who had caused it. It was well matched to Hugh's own, darker, boldness that sent him plunging into duels and investigations with hardly a concern for his own hide. The torn sleeve caught his eye though, and he eased it up to examine the arm beneath for scratches and found two shallow ones. "You'll have made mending work for your women folk in those brambles too," he said mildly, "though I dare say it will be fixed as fast as these tears in your hide."

"Mending work for the saddler too," Hugh agreed with dry amusement, "for I'll want all the seams of that saddle and girth checked before I trust my weight to it once more. If it failed again, I might end up breaking my fall with my head rather than my ego. I can't trust that there will always be a helpful patch of brambles to hand."

Cadfael traded the watered lotion for a salve of comfrey and small daisy, both good for scratches and grazes. His own amusement gleamed like the last of the sun as he said, "Well, and perhaps you should thank the brambles that it was only your pride that was bruised. Still, what kind of healer would I be to treat the scratches without treating the bruise as well?" He decanted some of the salve into a little pot for Hugh to take with him, cleaned his hands, and reached down a flask of wine made from his own pears, and a pair of cups. "Friendship is as good a salve for a bruised pride as any, but a dose of this will help too, I'm sure." He poured for both of them, and settled himself on the bench beside Hugh. "Now, to topics closer to home - tell me, what news of Aline? And Giles?"

Hugh took his cup and toasted their friendship. "A fine salve we make between us," he said, then leaned back against the wall and began to lay out gentler gossip. Their smiles met and touched over the clink of cups, as warm and quiet as the sunlight itself, and as sweet as a ripened pear.


End file.
